


Fuck You With Flowers

by copperpotsnpans



Series: Holiday Fics [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Always Female Derek Hale, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Awkwardness, Dirty Talk, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Lesbian Character, Oral Sex, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-27 23:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16711912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copperpotsnpans/pseuds/copperpotsnpans
Summary: The woman’s face flooded with color and her jaw ground back and forth before she spoke again. “No. I didn’t mean like fuck you specifically. I want the flowers to say fuck you, you know? That’s a thing right? Flowers have meaning and I want this centerpiece to say fuck you.”Thanksgiving AU based on the tumblr prompt: Person A owns a flower shop and person B comes storming in one day, slaps 20 bucks on the counter and says “How do I passive-aggressively say fuck you in flower?”so you’d need a bouquet of geraniums (stupidity), foxglove (insincerity), meadowsweet (uselessness), yellow carnations (you have disappointed me), and orange lilies (hatred). it would be quite striking! and full of loathing.





	Fuck You With Flowers

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! This is coming a tad late as American Thanksgiving is almost over, but here is the second installment in my holiday fic series. I'm not completely happy with this, so I threw some smut in at the end as a consolation. Also you might have to suspend some disbelief for this one and time is kind of hand-wavey here. But I'm open to suggestions for winter themed fics! Also feel free to leave some kudos or a comment!

Stiles looked up as the bell to her shop rang out, signalling someone had entered. From her place in the back room she couldn’t see who but it wasn’t like they were in danger of being robbed. It was a florist shop for god’s sake. And Erica was floating around somewhere out front, she’d help whoever had wandered in.

 

She took her time arranging the lilies in a pink vase, tweaking each stem so that they sat just so. At this point she was just making arrangements for fun; it wasn’t like anyone was actually buying anything other than the hideous cornucopia displays that everyone and their damn brother seemed to be after.

 

Stiles understood it was November, and thus, Thanksgiving. But still. She couldn’t quite gasp why everyone wanted those fucking cornucopias. They were ugly and dysfunctional. And who the fuck seriously thought it was a florists job to stock gourds. Last time Stiles checked, they sure as hell weren’t flowers. There had to be a better way for the masses to express their joy at a misappropriated holiday that mocked and celebrated the genocide of indigenous peoples throughout the Americas. 

 

But god forbid she try to steer someone towards a nice bouquet of sunflowers or gardenias. Usually the monotony of every season got to her, but this year, Thanksgiving was proving to be by far the worse. It wasn’t even a typical florist holiday, like Valentine’s or Mother’s Day. It was  _ Thanksgiving _ . And here she was, a week before, forcing the only two people who worked for her to assemble these monstrous basket ensembles. Of course, this left her hands relatively free to wander. She loved formulating arrangements that embodied the person who needed them, each flower selected with care, the meaning evident in the creation. It was why she had become a florist in the first place. 

 

Erica’s head poked into the room, interrupting Stiles as she arranged this and that.

 

“You’re gonna wanna hear this, boss.” she said, a sly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, painted red with faux holiday cheer.

 

Stiles put the ribbon she was holding down and prepared herself for whatever Erica thought she needed to hear. As she walked into the main room of the store, she was briefly taken aback by the woman she found standing across the counter.

 

She stood tall, with short black hair cropped close to her head and everything about her exuded dark and gloom. A leather jacket adorned her broad shoulders and her jeans were tight enough that Stiles imagined there was definitely some wiggling involved getting them on. Chunky boots covered the woman’s feet, undoubtedly giving her at least an additional unneeded inch on her already impressive height. Her brow was furrowed and the more Stiles thought about it, she looked distinctly uncomfortable and out of place among the brightly colored flowers. 

 

A crisp fifty dollar bill lay on the counter in front of her.

 

Stiles quirked an eyebrow up. Her shop was nice but not  _ that _ nice. No one spent that kind of money unless they were looking for wedding arrangements. 

 

“Can I help you?” she asked.

 

The woman’s brow furrowed even further if that was possible. “I need flowers.” she muttered.

 

Stiles nodded. “Well, you’ve come to the right place. We do have flowers. What are you looking for? A bouquet? A centerpiece?” 

 

“I need something for Thanksgiving.”

 

Internally, Stiles groaned. The last thing she wanted was to make another cornucopia. But money was money. Teeth gritted, she offered, “We do offer these cornucopia centerpieces with a nice seasonal assortment of autumn flowers.”

 

Before she had finished the sentence, the woman was already shaking her head. 

 

“That sounds too polite.” the woman said, her mouth turning down into a deep frown. “It’s not really the vibe I’m going for.”

 

“Okay. What kind of vibe are you going for?” Stiles was relieved at not adding another cornucopia to the already large list.

 

“Fuck you.” the woman gritted out.

 

“Excuse me?” Stiles asked in disbelief. She’d heard a lot of things from customers. Sob stories, joyous announcements, grief, and on one occasion a request for a poison ivy bouquet. But she’d never had someone this angry at her right off the bat. “Look, I’m just trying to figure out what you want. If you don’t want my help, you’re more than welcome to go to some other fucking shop.”

 

The woman’s face flooded with color and her jaw ground back and forth before she spoke again. “No. I didn’t mean like fuck you specifically. I want the flowers to say fuck you, you know? That’s a thing right? Flowers have meaning and I want this centerpiece to say fuck you.”

 

Stiles opened and closed her mouth a few times, stunned and at a loss for words.

 

“That’s so passive aggressive.” she finally said. The woman’s face briefly fell before Stiles continued, “I love it. What’re we working with here? Family, friends? Oh, maybe a jilted ex?”

 

The woman tilted her head in confusion, likely at Stiles’s excitement. “My sister.” she said, hesitantly. 

 

Stiles nodded along. “Okay, what’s the motivation here?” She needed some inspiration for this.

 

“She just got engaged.” God, it was like pulling teeth with this woman.

 

“And?” Stiles prompted. “Are you unhappy with that? Do you not like her fiance?”

 

“She’s engaged to my ex boyfriend.” the woman huffed.

 

“That bitch!” Stiles exclaimed. She could feel the scandal running through her veins. She might be an only child but she could almost imagine the rage of a sibling marrying an ex. “Who the hell does that? And they’re coming to Thanksgiving dinner?”

 

The woman finally seemed to perk up a little at Stiles’s outrage. “Worse. They’re hosting and asked me to pick up a centerpiece for the dinner table.”

 

“That’s just cruel.” Stiles agreed. “Okay, so we’re going to say fuck you in some flowers.” She spun slowly, surveying her own inventory. “I’ve got some ideas but the real question is when do you need this?”

 

The woman pursed her lips, considering. “We’re doing dinner on Wednesday, so anytime before then would be good.”

 

“I’m actually going to be in on Wednesday morning if you want to pick it up then.” Stiles offered. Fresh flowers always looked the best.

 

“If that works for you.” the woman said, nodding her head. “Do I pay now?”

 

Stiles looked at the crisp, clean fifty dollar bill on the counter. “No, you can pay when you pick it up. That way if you don’t like it, you’re not out of money. And unless you want a display the size of a small statue, it’s not going to be that expensive. This is Beacon Hills, not LA.”

 

“Noted.” 

 

Stiles ruffled through some papers, looking for the order form. “Here we go!” she exclaimed. “Just fill this out and we’ll get your order taken care of.

 

She handed off the form and pretended to ruffle through more papers as she observed the fascinating woman. She didn’t know her name but she’d already decided she liked her personality. Anyone who wanted to express the sentiment of  _ fuck you _ with flowers was someone she wanted to be friends with.

 

The woman scribbled for a few seconds before handing Stiles the form back.

 

“Thank you.” the woman said, and for the first time since she entered the establishment, Stiles could feel the emotion in her voice.

 

“Anytime! See you on Wednesday.” Stiles called as the woman left the store, leaving the faint scent of leather and nutmeg behind her.

 

Looking at the form, Stiles discovered the woman’s name was Dara. Dara Hale. 

 

Her last name wouldn’t have otherwise been significant but Stiles knew the gossip of Beacon Hills intimately. In turn, this meant that Stiles was keenly aware that Laura Hale, presumably the older sister, had just gotten engaged to a certain Cameron Lahey.

 

Cam had disliked Stiles for as long as she could remember. The reason why wasn’t clear, though it could have been that she stood up for his brother when he wouldn’t. Or that Stiles reported Mr. Lahey for the bruises that only Isaac seemed to sport. Or maybe it wasn’t that serious at all and he hated her because she got the last butterscotch pudding cup in ninth grade. Either way, he didn’t like her and it was obvious. He would glare and huff whenever she graced him with her presence. There were also the snide comments regarding her appearance and choice of friends. The dislike quickly turned mutual, with Stiles making it her mission to make him as miserable as she could. Most days that was accomplished by taking his lunch table before he could get there. It was petty, but it worked.

 

Stiles snorted as she thought about it. For such a manly man, Cam sure was unsettled by her taking his seat. She hadn’t thought about that in years, surely not since Cam had graduated a year before her.

 

Stiles mentally ran through her class roster. There definitely wasn’t a Dara Hale in her class, and if she remembered correctly, not in the class before or after hers. She knew Laura Hale was a year older than her, and she even knew that Cora Hale was two years younger than she. But the name Dara Hale didn’t quite ring a bell. 

 

Putting the form off to the side, Stiles made a mental note to ask Scott about the whole matter later that day. 

 

* * *

 

The following Wednesday saw a hoard of cornucopias being delivered in preparation for the gloriousness that was turkey day. It also saw Stiles preparing the centerpiece for Dara. She wanted to do that one herself, since it was highly unlikely anyone would ever ask her again to passive-aggressively say fuck you with flowers. 

 

Scott had been zero help regarding the matter of the missing Hale sister. Or maybe he had been some help, because he also didn’t remember a Dara Hale, which meant she likely didn’t go to high school with them. 

 

Inside a clear hurricane vase, Stiles carefully arranged geraniums, foxglove, meadowsweet, yellow carnations, and orange lilies. Stupidity, insincerity, uselessness, disappointment, and hatred rounded it out nicely. Tying a burgundy ribbon around the center of the vase, Stiles smiled to herself in satisfaction. If anyone knew the meaning of flowers, it would be pretty clear that this was a fuck you centerpiece.

 

Stiles oversaw the delivery of the monstrosities solely to distract herself from eagerly awaiting Dara’s arrival.

 

But she needn’t distract herself for too long, because just before noon Stiles heard the shop’s bell tinkle. Her head jerked up from the forms she was sorting, her eyes instantly zeroing in on Dara Hale, standing just inside the store. 

 

She looked different from the last time Stiles had seen her. 

 

Dara stood tall, that was the same, but she looked taller somehow. Stiles looked her up and down, once, studying the subtle changes when she spotted them.

 

Black leather pumps with at least a four inch heel. They made Dara’s long legs look impossibly longer, a fact that was highlighted by the knee length, crushed velvet dress she had on, the deep auburn a stark contrast to her light olive skin. Her hair was still close to her head, but upon a closer look, Stiles could see that Dara had makeup on, something that had changed from last week. 

 

Jerking her eyes back to the general location of Dara’s, Stiles smiled in greeting. “Hey! Come on in. I just have to grab your order from the back.” 

 

Stiles darted to the back of the store and carefully carried the vase to the front counter, sitting it down gently, making sure not to disturb any of the delicate flowers.

 

Dara reached one hand out, softly brushing over the petals. “They’re beautiful.”

 

“Thanks!” Stiles exclaimed. “I’m glad you liked them. There’s a card attached to the ribbon with the meanings of the flowers I included. You can look it over if you want and let me know if you want me to add anything last minute. As long as I have it, it shouldn’t be an issue.” 

 

Dara nodded and looked over the card, her brow furrowing towards the end. 

 

“Is there a problem?” Stiles asked, hesitantly. She was positive that she nailed this one.

 

Dara shook her head. “Not really, no. It’s just that, well, meadowsweet means uselessness?” she queried.

 

Stiles confirmed, “Yep. I took a couple of liberties with that one. I just happened to know that Laura just got engaged to Cam, and I’m fairly certain he’s useless. I can always take it out, though.” 

 

“Wait. You know Cam?” 

 

“I knew him in high school.” Stiles explained. “We never got along really, so I felt like calling him useless would be on par with the norm.”

 

Dara laughed. “He is pretty useless. I’ve just never heard anyone really agree with me.” 

 

“No friendly feelings left from the breakup?” 

 

“Not hardly. He was sleeping with Laura before we broke things off. Any goodwill I had towards him vanished when I found him, in bed, with my sister in our apartment.”

 

“Wow.” Stiles drug out. “That’s incredibly shitty, but I’m not really surprised. I think he was just mad that I got the last butterscotch pudding cup in the ninth grade. He never let it go.” she explained, shaking her head in faux pity. 

 

“Sounds like him. How much do I owe you for this?” Dara gestured to the flowers, satisfied with Stiles’s explanation. 

 

Stiles waved her off, “You know what? Don’t worry about it. The satisfaction from one last fuck you to Cam Lahey will be enough for me.”

 

“Are you sure?” Dara asked, hesitantly, biting down on her lower lip.

 

It could’ve been coincidence or it could’ve been that she definitely noticed Stiles’s eyes linger on her lips, painted a vivid red with a shiny gloss on top. It probably tasted like strawberries. 

 

“For sure.” Stiles assured her. “And have a good Thanksgiving.” she could’ve talked to Dara for the rest of the day, but she reminded herself that Dara had a dinner to get to. 

 

Dara smiled a blinding smile that left Stiles stunned as she picked up the vase and carried it out the door, a small tinkle left in her wake in the silence of the store. Stiles had just let out a breath and slumped forward on the counter when the doorbell rang out again. She picked her head up, shocked to see Dara standing there once more.

 

“Sorry to bother you,” she began before Stiles interrupted her.

 

“Not a problem at all!” 

 

“Are you busy this afternoon? Laura’s allowing me a plus one.” Dara offered. “I thought it might be nice to have someone that gets under Cam’s skin the way he gets under mine.” 

 

Stiles laughed. “Well when you put it that way! I might as well go. Maybe I can even put in an actual fuck you to go along with the flowers.”

 

“You can totally work that in!” Dara nodded along. 

 

“You seriously want me to come with you?” Stiles asked, seriousness taking over her features. “Because I definitely will but in all fairness you should know that polite conversation is not my forte. I’ve been known to really start some shit over Thanksgiving dinner.”

 

Dara cocked her head to the side. “Well I guess it’s a good thing that I’m still pissed at Laura.”

 

“Alrighty then. Let me hand the shop off to Erica and I’ll be free to go. Is there a dress code?”

 

“Not really but I know Laura’s going to force awkward family photos to send back to mom and dad.”

 

Stiles looked down at her outfit. Jeans that were so old the knees were ripping out and not in the fashionable way. Her shirt was dark orange with a wishbone printed on and the words  _ Oh Snap _ above it.

 

“They won’t question why there’s a random girl in the family picture?” Stiles asked.

 

“You could just be my date for the evening? That’d solve all of this, right?” Dara asked, her cheeks flushing a delightful pink color. “I mean if you’re not opposed? Or straight?”

 

Stiles leaned forward across the counter, lowering her voice as if she was telling a secret, “I’m so gay I can’t even hang my pictures straight.”

 

Dara burst out laughing. 

 

Stiles grinned, leaning back on her heels. “Well since you found that joke funny, I’d be more than happy to accompany you to this hellish dinner.” She tossed the keys to Erica, who was putting away inventory in the back. “I’m out for the day!” she called, opening the door for Dara.

 

* * *

 

The ride was filled with idle chatter, mainly Stiles rambling inane facts in the hopes of drawing Dara out of the shell she seemed to so clearly be retreating into as their destination grew closer, mile by mile.

 

“Did you know penguins are serial kidnappers?” she asked.

 

Dara’s head swung around, gracing Stiles with an incredulous look. “Are you serious?”

 

“Totally! They have high levels of prolactin which fosters a sense of nurturing. It causes them to kidnap other penguins’ babies. They just try to raise them as their own. It’s a large issue within the penguin community.” 

 

“The penguin community? Is that a thing?” Dara asked, the skepticism evident in her voice.

 

“Of course it’s a thing!” Stiles responded. “The penguin community is a very real thing.”

 

Dara nodded, still looking skeptical. “Why do you know this much about penguins? Do you like them?”

 

Stiles shook her head, “I mean, not really. Not anymore than any other animal. I read an article the other day, and it just, stuck with me.” 

 

“I can see how kidnapping animals would do that. I just can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” 

 

Stiles pursed her lips. “You don’t have to take me. You can stop now and I can have someone come pick me up, no harm no foul. I don’t want you to do something you don’t want to do.” 

 

Dara shook her head. “No, I want to do this. I deserve to have something nice during this godforsaken dinner. If you just happen to be that something then so be it.”

 

“If you’re sure.” Stiles said, pausing. “Wait, I’m the something nice for dinner?”

 

“Absolutely.” Dara confirmed. “You’ve been incredibly helpful, you didn’t think it was awful that I’m giving passive aggressive flowers and it doesn’t hurt that you’re beautiful.” 

 

Dara’s face flushed as she seemed to realize what she had said.

 

“You really think that?” Stiles asked, her voice soft and hushed as if she didn’t want to break the spell that enveloped the car at Dara’s confession.

 

“Of course I do. But now I have to ask, why did you agree to come?” 

 

Stiles considered thoughtfully before responding, “Well, there’s always free food, which is a major perk. But you’re also the type of person that asks for passive aggressive flowers and can not only pull off a leather jacket but also heels which means you’re hot as fuck in my book. I would’ve probably attempted to shoot my shot with you if I’d saw you again.”

 

“It’s nice to hear that I wasn’t barking up the wrong tree.” Dara told her.

 

“Right.” Stiles agreed. “So what are we going for here? Overly affectionate? Bitter? Should I get drunk before dinner? Maybe throw up during dinner? Can I bring up the butterscotch pudding?” she quizzed.

 

“Uh, I’d prefer if you didn’t get drunk before dinner. Overly affectionate is fine if you want, but regular affectionate is fine as well. And please bring the butterscotch pudding up.”

 

“Noted.” Stiles told her. “Just let me know if I cross any boundaries. I don’t want to end this before it even begins. I’d like to get a second date out of this, you know?”

 

“Really? You’re looking forward to a second date before the first one even begins?”

 

“Of course I am. And like what a great story to tell our grandkids one day. Our first date was Thanksgiving dinner with your ex and sister.”

 

Dara laughed, “I guess you have a point there.”

 

Stiles nodded her head along with the music on the radio until they turned into a long, wooden driveway. “Alright, you got your game face on?”

 

“I guess so.” Dara responded, not sounding positive at all. 

 

“What if we make out before going in? Would that turn it into a resounding yes?”

 

“Perhaps.” Dara smirked. “Was that an offer?”

 

“It was, in fact, an offer.” Stiles confirmed. She’d always be down to make out with a sexy woman. 

 

Dara laughed. “I appreciate it, but I’d rather go into this with a clear head.”

 

Stiles nodded along in agreement but kept it in the back of her mind that Dara considered making out with her a mind altering experience. 

 

Dara parked the car outside of a house. One that Stiles commonly referred to as a Beacon Hills McMansion. All stucco siding and marble countertops. No character at all.

 

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later and Stiles was assured that her initial impression was, in fact, correct. Just like the house, Laura was similarly perfectly made up with every hair pinned in place and not a smudge of lipstick out of line. But she had no character. She’d merely sniffed when introduced to Stiles and promptly ignored her, which might be preferable to the treatment Dara was currently getting.

 

“When are you getting a job?” Laura asked, pouring glasses of wine.

 

“I have a job, Laura. Just because you don’t like it doesn’t mean it isn’t a job.” Dara gritted out.

 

“What is it you do again?” Stiles asked out of sheer curiosity. It wasn’t like her and Dara had discussed their lives very much.

 

“I just got hired as a deputy sheriff, actually.”

 

“Nice!” Stiles nodded. “Here in Beacon Hills? Because I don’t know if you made the connection but the Sheriff is kind of my dad.”

 

Before Dara could respond, however, Laura cut in. “You guys are dating and you don’t even know what she does?” she asked scornfully.

 

“It’s a new thing.” Stiles snapped back, “But at least she didn’t go for sloppy seconds. Guess Dara was the classy one.” Stiles sat back in her chair, smirking. She took a sip of her wine to emphasize her point.

 

Laura’s face flushed a ruddy red but the front door banging open prevented her from responding.

 

“That must be Cam.” she muttered, walking away from Dara and Stiles. Dara began chuckling the moment her sister had left the room.

 

“That was fucking brilliant!”

 

“Not too much?” Stiles asked.

 

“Nah, she deserves some shit after all this.”  

 

“Agreed.” Stiles said as Laura and Cam walked back into the kitchen. 

 

“What are we agreeing on?” Cam asked. Just like him to butt in.

 

“That butterscotch pudding is the best kind to have. Do you have any Laura?” Stiles asked, side-eyeing Cam. 

 

“Why would I have butterscotch pudding?” she asked, confusedly. “It’s like the worst kind of pudding.

 

Cam looked like a kicked puppy in a corner, “It’s really good.” he muttered. 

 

“It is when you have some.” Stiles corrected, earning a harsh look from Cam. 

 

Stiles and Dara drifted off to chop vegetables for the salad as Laura and Cam whispered back and forth over the potatoes. They worked with idle chatter flowing until dinner was declared ready, and the wine free flowing.

 

As they sat down, Cam looked to Dara. “I just wanted to let you know I forgive you.”

 

“For what?” she asked incredulously. 

 

“I mean, you weren’t a very good girlfriend. You never really tried to understand me, which is why I turned to Laura. I just wanted to express my forgiveness to you. I don’t blame you anymore. After all it led to my wonderful relationship with Laura. And I especially can’t blame you after today. It isn’t your fault you’re a lesbian. That’s probably why you were never that responsive in bed.”

 

Stiles blinked in shock. Was that twat really saying what she thought he was saying?

 

Dara seemed to be in the same shock. “What?” she asked, her mouth turning down. 

 

Cam, like the idiot he truly was, tried to bumble through another explanation. “Like you would always just lay there. And you never really liked blowing me. I’m just saying, I don’t blame you anymore. Like, if she’s what floats your boat, then have at it. I can’t imagine anyone actually dating Stiles, but hey, if that’s what you’re in to.” 

 

“First of all,” Dara began, her face turning dark red, “you thought my clit was on my leg. What did you want, for me to fake my orgasm? And yeah, it takes you like 40 minutes to come when I blow you, that’s not exactly enjoyable for me. Maybe if you’d stop jacking off so much it wouldn’t be an issue. Second, I’m not a lesbian. I’m bi, meaning you were just bad at sex. I honestly don’t know what Laura sees in you. And last, Stiles is fucking gorgeous and if you can’t see that, that’s on you.” she finished with a huff, slamming herself back into the chair.

 

It was truly an impressive speech and Stiles was touched by Dara’s staunch defense of her. It was sweet. And hot as fuck.

 

Stiles drained her glass of wine and stood from the table. “Not that this hasn’t been a blast but I think it’s time we got going. Cam, always a misfortune to see you. Also, learn where the clit is. Like look up a BuzzFeed article or something. Laura, it’s pretty fucked up that you’d let anyone talk to your sister like this. And maybe don’t fuck your sister’s significant other in the future. It’s a shitty move. Dara, let’s make like a tree and leaf this motherfucking dinner. I’ve got pie at my place. And I know where the clit is.” she paused before continuing, “I hope you like the flowers, I arranged them.” she gestured to the table centerpiece.

 

Dara smirked, standing up. “Sounds like a plan. Thanks for dinner Laura.”  

 

They walked out to Dara’s car before Stiles spoke again. “You good to drive?”

 

Dara smiled. “I switched to pomegranate juice about an hour ago. I’m fine. We heading to your place?” she asked as they climbed in the car. 

 

“Well I did promise you some clit action if you’re game.” Stiles offered, trying to show that she was serious earlier.

 

Dara’s cheeks warmed once more before she responded. “After that shitshow I think I deserve something nice.”

 

“And as we previously discussed, I’m that something nice.” Stiles smiled. This day honestly couldn’t have gone any better. It just went to show that taking risks sometimes paid off.

 

“Exactly.” Dara smiled over at her, pulling out on the main road.

 

* * *

 

Thirty minutes later saw Dara pushing Stiles down onto her bed, pushing her shirt up and over her head. 

 

“Fuck.” Stiles gasped as Dara sucked on a spot just below her ear, leaving a mark that would definitely be visible in the morning. 

 

Dara unhooked Stiles’s bra, pulling it off and baring her breasts to the air, her nipples hardening in response.

 

As timid as she seemed in the car, Stiles would never have expected Dara to take charge this way.  

 

Dara pushed at Stiles’s shoulders again, encouraging her to lay back on the bed. When Stiles complied, Dara grasped the waistband of her pants and began pulling them down, her underwear along with them.

 

“Not fair.” Stiles said as her cunt was exposed to the air, cooling against the slickness there.

 

“What?” Dara asked, distracted by Stiles’s naked body on display.

 

“I’m naked and you’re not. We should rectify that.” Stiles explained.

 

Dara laughed and began pulling her dress over her head, kicking off her heels. When she was undressed, Stiles eyes raked over her. Her body was just as curvy as Stiles had initially thought, her skin an even tone. Her nipples darkened into a rosy brown and the neat triangle of hair between her legs invited Stiles in.

 

She could see the very center of the hair darkened with wetness, a telltale sign of arousal. And that reminded Stiles of their earlier conversation.

 

“Come here?” she asked, her voice husky with desire. Dara moved closer to the bed and Stiles sat up, grabbing her hips and pulling Dara until she was flush with the bed. “You know, I promised I could find your clit, but uh, I’ve got something else in mind.” she said, leaning close to nip at Dara’s hip bone.

 

“What’s that?” Dara gasped, thrusting forward unconsciously.

 

“How about you sit on my face?” Stiles offered. It was one of her favorite things to do during sex and it certainly wouldn’t be a hardship to have Dara on her face.

 

“Are you serious?” Dara asked, hesitantly. “Won’t I like, suffocate you?”

 

Stiles chuckled gently, “Not hardly. Besides there’s nothing I can think of wanting more right now.”

 

Dara smiled and climbed onto the bed once more, her hips bracketing Stiles’s. 

 

Stiles leaned back, resting her head on a pillow and pulling Dara’s hips closer to her head. Stopping, she briefly thumbed over Dara’s clit, eliciting a sigh from the woman. Stiles giggled, “Told you I know where it is.”

 

“I believe you.” Dara sighed, shuffling closer until her legs surrounded Stiles’s head. “Just pinch me if you need air or something.”

 

“Will do.” Stiles huffed, inhaling the musky scent of Dara’s pussy surrounding her. She pulled Dara down onto her face, using her tongue to gently trace the outline of her vulva, lapping gently over her lips before delving inside, tasting the wetness she found there.

 

Dara moaned and began a slow, steady grind down on Stiles’s tongue. She did her best to keep up with the rhythm of Dara’s hips, lapping at her clit.

 

Reaching up, Stiles slid one finger into Dara, until it was surrounded by the warm, wet heat of her. Dara gasped in response, “More!”

 

Stiles was all too happy to comply and slid another finger, and then another until she had three fingers in Dara’s pussy, fucking her in time with her tongue. Her other hand had a bruising grip on Dara’s hip, encouraging her to set the pace. 

 

Stiles eyes had fallen shut but she forced them back open when Dara grew louder. She was pleasantly surprised to find Dara’s eyes closed in pleasure and one of her hands grasping the headboard of the bed while the other tweaked her nipples. 

 

Stiles curved her fingers forward, meeting the spongy interior of Dara’s inner walls, forcing a loud moan of the woman. Dara shook in response and ground down harshly on Stiles’s face. One, two, three times. And then she was still as her legs trembled around Stiles’s head. Stiles lapped gently at her clit, working Dara through her orgasm, softly withdrawing her fingers and subtly wiping her hand on the bedspread. 

 

Dara shuddered in the aftershocks before swinging her leg over Stiles’s head and sliding down to lay beside her. They both panted for a minute or two before Dara rolled over once more and slipped her hand between Stiles’s legs.

 

Stiles parted her legs in response, giving Dara plenty of room to work with.

 

Dara’s fingers slid through her hairless slit to brush over her clit, slick with her desire. She rubbed gently until Stiles put her hand over Dara’s, encouraging her to go faster.

 

“You like that?” Dara asked, increasing the pressure. “You like me rubbing your pussy?”

 

Stiles moaned. Of course Dara like to talk. It was possibly Stiles’s one weakness, the one kink she allowed herself.

 

“Of course you do. You’re so fucking wet. Did you like licking my pussy that much? Did it make you this wet?”

 

“Yes!” Stiles gasped. “I fucking loved it.”

 

“Such a dirty fucking girl.” Dara whispered, biting down on Stiles’s earlobe, rubbing her clit faster.

 

Stiles sought out Dara’s mouth as she came, gasping into her mouth, her legs trapping Dara’s hand as she rode out the waves of pleasure.

 

Eventually, Dara pulled her hand free, collapsing on her back once more. The two women panted in the afterglow of their pleasure. 

 

Stiles glanced over at her bedside clock. 12:01AM blinked back at her. Huh. It was Thanksgiving.

 

“Happy Thanksgiving!” she laughed. 

 

Dara looked confused for a moment before obviously catching on, “What a way to start a holiday.”

 

“Right.” Stiles agreed. “So what are you thankful for?”

 

Dara furrowed her brows. “You know, health, happiness, the naked woman I’m next to. The usual.” She pulled at Stiles until she rested on top of Dara, leaning down to meet her lips.

 

At the very last second, Dara pulled back slightly, “And Happy Thanksgiving to you too.” With that she brought their lips together, her tongue coaxing entrance to Stiles’s mouth.

 

Best Thanksgiving ever, if you asked either of the women. This holiday season, was sure to be pleasing. 


End file.
